Up, Back, and Away

by K. Velk

  Miles hardly heard. He felt the rafters of his careful plans come crashing down around his ears. Ada would be waiting for him at the bus stop tomorrow at one o’clock. If he went tearing off to see this Dorcas in Reddlegowt, there would be no way he could make the meeting.

  “Do you need any money Miles?” Mr. Scott repeated, in a louder voice. “For the fare? And I should think for at least a few meals?”

  “What?”

  “Money, Miles. Pay attention. Do you need money? A pound or two should more than suffice. The Macumbers run a guesthouse and as you see you have been invited to stay there. I expect you’ll be well fed.”

  “It’s not the money,” Miles answered. “So long as it all would cost less than nine pounds.”

  “Oh not nearly so much as that. Have you that kind of ready cash?”

  Miles nodded absently.

  “Well done.” Mr. Scott looked impressed. “It’s not many lads your age who could manage such savings, but if you wanted a loan I should be happy to make one.”

  “No. No. It’s fine. I just, I had plans for tomorrow.”

  “Well, Miles, I would think that under the circumstances those must give way. It would have to be bad for her to write to me, not to mention for her brother to take the desperate measure of a telegram. The Macumbers are northern to the core, not spenders of extra nor askers of favors.”

  “I’ll have to change my plans now. I am not sure how… what to do,” Miles stammered.

  “Well, ‘the best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley.’”

  “What?” Miles asked irritably. Mr. Scott overlooked this breach of etiquette.

  “Never mind. It’s Robert Burns, Scots dialect: ‘the best laid plans of mice and men go often askew.’ I can wait for you and give you a ride to the station if you like.”

  47. Breakfast with Eustace

  From the cliff-top vantage point of Macumber’s Guesthouse, Miles looked down at what appeared to be ankle-high waves as they rolled onto the beach far below. Colorful huts, like little garden sheds, stood side by side on the strip of sand between the high rocks and the sea. The vast North Sea was ruffled and looked gentle as a kitten in the morning sun. Another example of looks being deceiving, Miles thought.

  His trip the night before had been long and complex, with two changes of trains required to carry him through the north English darkness from Tipton to Reddlegowt. The lonesome journey had been made worse by the worry that gnawed at him as steadily as the wheels turned. What was he getting into? What was he leaving behind? Jack had agreed to meet Ada in Miles’ place, and to try to convince her to set another time for their meeting., but he had no basis to believe that would go well.

  Miles had been the last passenger on the last train at the end of the line. He had found Eustace waiting, all alone, in the one puddle of light on the dark platform at Reddlegowt Station. The poor man had pumped Miles’ hand as though he were a returning war hero and had insisted on carrying the haversack to his waiting car.

  On the drive to the guest house, Eustace had tried to point out some of the local sights, despite the darkness. One inky silhouette was identified as a ruined Abbey, where once upon a time, Vikings had plundered. Now, looking out over the smooth sea, Miles could just about picture Viking longboats pulling for the Yorkshire shore. This part of England was right on their doorstep. Norway, Denmark, and Sweden were somewhere just over the blue horizon.

  Eustace had pointed out another landmark during their midnight ride, Reddlegowt Castle. There had been nothing to see but a jagged, dark bit set high on a crag. Now, in the light of day, Miles saw the Castle plainly. It had a round tower and battlements and sat over the quiet, compact village like a gargoyle frowning down on a sleepy gray cat. The famous home of the Earls of Reddlegowt had stood in that spot “time out of mind,” Eustace had said. Dreary as the Castle looked, Miles thought he would prefer a visit there to what he feared was waiting for him in the sick room below.

  Of course there had been no hope of seeing Dorcas last night. Eager as Miles was to get this business concluded, he didn’t have the nerve to ask for an interview with a dying woman in the middle of the night. Eustace had made it clear enough that she was very frail.

  “Doctor says its cancer and that it’s in her brain now,” he had explained over a cup of cocoa. “I’m hoping she’ll have a good day tomorrow, but these days it’s hard to predict.”

  Miles was bolstered a bit now by the smell of bacon and eggs rising from below. He made his way downstairs and Eustace appeared with a tea towel over his forearm before Miles’ foot hit the last narrow stair tread

  “Good morning Miles! Sleep well? Nothing like the sound of the sea for a good night’s sleep.”

  “Yeah. Fine. Thanks. How’s your sister?”

  “The nurse is with her now.” Eustace sounded doubtful. “She didn’t have an easy night. Whatever this business is that she’s got to talk about with you it has been tormenting her something awful.”

  “Uhm. Just so you know, I can’t say for sure myself that I’ll ever see Morgan again. I mean, I’m hoping to get back to the States soon, but my plans are still kind of up in the air.”

  Eustace pulled out a chair and sat down with the air of one who has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  “The important thing, as far as I’m concerned, is that Dorrie gets a bit of peace on this now. If you can just listen to what she has to say, take the parcel, or whatever it is she has to give you, that will be enough for her, and for me. I know you’ll do your best to finish the job, but no one will fault you if it doesn’t work out - though perhaps it’s best if you don’t mention your doubts to her.” Eustace stood and clapped Miles on the shoulder. “Thank you for coming, lad. I know it will make it all much easier for her. But what am I on about? You could stand for some breakfast, I’ll be bound.”

  When Eustace returned to the little dining room just a few minutes later he was wheeling a cart topped by plates full of eggs, sausages, fried tomatoes and thick slices of buttered toast. Miles had heard someone say that if you wanted to eat well in England, you should eat three breakfasts. He had to agree. He tucked into this one pausing only when a smartly dressed young couple appeared in the dining room.

  “We’ll just be going now Mr. Macumber,” the man said, nodding at Miles. “Can you tell us what we owe?”

  “Breakfast is included with the room. Wouldn’t you like a bit of something?”

  “I’m afraid we’ve overslept and we don’t dare miss our train,” the woman said. “I don’t know what we would have done without you, Mr. Macumber. A beach hut would have made very uncomfortable overnight accommodation.”

  “Well, in this world we must trust one another,” Eustace replied. “I’d tell you to come back soon, but I am not sure what the future holds for us here.”

  “Is something wrong?” the woman asked.

  “Well, my sister, who’s run the place with me since my wife died, won’t see another summer, probably won’t see out the week the way things are going. I don’t know as I have the heart to carry on without her.”

  “Oh dear,” she said. “I am sorry for you. I saw the nurse out front and I wondered if someone were ill.”

  “Certainly we’ll check back here if we ever return to Reddlegowt,” the man said. “Frankly, if it weren’t for your hospitality, I’d say it would be a cold day in You-Know-Where before that would happen, but you have redeemed the place for us.”

  “And please take our best wishes for your sister and yourself,” the woman said.

  “Thank you missus. And do come back again. Reddlegowt makes for a grand excursion – and if you’ve got your certificate next time you’ll find my fellow innkeepers more to your likin’.”

  Eustace took their money, waved the couple out, and then took a seat next to Miles. He looked down at his hands, plainly a little embarrassed. “I expect you’re wonderin’ what that’s all about.” Miles wasn’t really, but Eustace was clearly set on explain
ing.

  “Those nice young people came for bit of a holiday, from London. But they forgot to pack their marriage certificate. Then they went bathing and she lost her wedding ring in the sea. They had been to three different inns and been turned away before they came here. I was setting up late, you see, waiting for you. I said ‘no’, of course, but she showed me the line on her finger and I didn’t have the heart to turn them away in the night.”

  Miles had never heard of people being required to prove they were married before they could rent a hotel room! But he didn’t comment. He had learned not to comment on such things. Eustace misinterpreted his silence.

  “I know. It’s a slippery slope once you start down. If my old father knew that I gave a room to a young couple like that he would be spinning in his grave. He may be spinning even now.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that at all,” Miles said, swallowing another mouthful of the good, hot tea. “I would have let them stay too. I was just thinking about how strict everybody is here.”

  “Well. Not everyone, but all that’s respectable. Isn’t it the same in America?”

  “I guess I don’t really know. I’ve never had to rent a room on my own – much less with a girl.”

  Eustace laughed. “Well, at your age I should hope not. Still, things are changing. Anything goes these days. When I was a boy, it was church for two hours every Sunday then no work and no play nor even loud voices or it was the strap. And there were nine of us kids at home! Now every Sunday is a holiday and there’s folks picnickin’ and playin’ football.”

  He paused and turned his gaze to the mild sea. “I dunno, though. Seeing Dorrie go downhill has made me wonder about the use of all that strict observance. She’s not old you know – just forty seven. Folks say that the golden ball rolls at least once to everyone’s feet. Well, it never rolled to Dorrie’s. That’s a fact. She never married, you know. The one fella she ever had a real interest in was a Catholic and that would never do.”

  Before Miles could dredge up any appropriate reply, the nurse appeared in the dining room.

  “You must be Miles,” she said briskly. “I am Nurse Hedger. Dorcas is ready for you now.”

  48. Dorrie Begins

  Now that the fearful sick room was opened at last, Miles was relieved to see that it was bright and fresh, with North Sea air coming in through the open window. The room was small, furnished with a old-fashioned bed, very high off the ground, a night table, a straight back chair, and a dresser. The only decorations were a lace runner on the dresser, a calendar on the wall and, hanging next to that, an ornamental plate with a shiny purple rim. The center of the plate was printed with big block letters: “Thou God Seest Me.” There was a round alarm clock on the night table. It was hours off. The time of day was apparently no longer a concern of the room’s occupant.

  Dorcas was a tiny woman, with a birdlike face set above narrow shoulders. Her illness was obvious in her sunken cheeks and strange pallor, but she was neatly turned out in a clean dressing gown. The blue of her pale, watery eyes was set off by a knit shawl in a similar shade. She clutched the shawl to her throat with one hand and stretched the other for Miles as he entered. He managed – to his everlasting credit – to take it without hesitating. It felt like parchment wrapped around matchsticks.

  “Miles. Thank goodness,” she said.

  “Hello Miss Macumber,” he edged into the chair that had been pulled close to her high bed.

  Nurse Hedger smiled at them both. “I declare Miles, you’re a positive tonic. I haven’t seen her look this well in weeks.”

  “It makes all the difference, that you’ve come,” Dorrie said. “Will you let us talk on our own for a bit now, Nurse?”

  “Certainly Dorrie. But don’t overdo. Miles has been given leave to stay as long as needs be, so if you must rest you can start up again later, or even tomorrow.”

  Miles’ heart sank. He might still be able to steal some time with Ada before the end of the day, if he could get out of Reddlegowt early…

  “I’ll take care. Don’t worry. I feel quite able to talk now.” Dorcas took a deep breath. “That fresh air is lovely, isn’t it? I told you it would do me good.”

  “Well, all right then. I’ll leave you to it.” Nurse Hedger gave them a last, frankly curious look before she slowly pulled the door closed. Dorcas waited a moment before she spoke again, very softly.

  “She’s a dear, is Nurse Hedger, but I know all this mystery is a temptation for her to listen at the keyhole. Will you just check?”

  Miles went to the door and opened it a crack. The nurse almost fell into the room.

  “Have you forgotten something Nurse?” Dorcas asked. The embarrassed woman pursed her lips and scurried toward the dining room. Dorcas smiled.

  “And you Miles. Will you swear not to tell what I’ve to tell you, except to them as needs to know?”

  “Of course.”

  Dorcas sighed. “It will be a relief after all this time to get it all off my conscience. Where to begin? Well, I suppose I must begin at the beginning, which was a long, time ago, when we were all of us young people – that is Taffy Davies and Maryanne Thompson, as she was then, myself and Elizabeth Grimwald…”

  “You mean Mrs. Grimwald?” The housekeeper at Quarter Sessions?”

  “The same, but I’m speaking of years ago, when we was girls. We all of us grew up here in Reddlegowt you see. Now, if you’re to understand why things happened the way they did, and why we’ve all done as we have done, you need to know a bit about the generation afore us, our parents and such. I haven’t much breath to waste so I’ll try to tell it simple, but best if you just let me tell it without interruptin’.”

  Worse and worse! This was going to take forever. “Sorry. I’ll try.”

  “Well, my father, along with the Pastor and Gustavus Grimwald were the leading men of our small Church here in Reddlegowt. We were dissenters, followers of John Calvin. You know about him, Swiss religious genius from olden days? Mr. Grimwald and his wife Gretchen were, as you probably already know, from Switzerland.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Miles said. “No one has ever told me anything much about Mrs. Grimwald. I knew she grew up here in Reddlegowt, but I didn’t even know that her first name was Elizabeth, and I’ve never heard anything about her parents or her husband. Did she marry someone called also named Grimwald? I mean, what are the chances?”

  “No, lad! She’s never been married.”

  “Well, why do they call her Mrs. Grimwald? I thought she was a war widow.”

  “No, no! She’s the housekeeper in a great house. All such are called ‘Mrs.’ It’s a sign of respect. When I get to the end of this story you’ll understand better, but, like I said, don’t interrupt.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  “Now the Old Earl, that is, Sir James’s father, he was a grand old man, but mad for sports. He was profligate, terrible profligate. Oh how he spent his money! And lots that wasn’t properly his into the bargain.

  “My friend Tom Pauling told me that Lady Fisher’s brother has been financially propping up Reddlegowt for years,” Miles said.

  “Oh, yes, Tom Pauling.” She smiled again. “He was a fine lad. You must remember me to him. And he told you truly. If it weren’t for Mr. Fairlamb’s money, Reddlegowt Castle would have been stripped down to the last spoon to pay the old Earl’s debts. But that’s another story. Where was I?”

  “Talking about the old Earl being ‘mad for sports.’”

  “Right, well, so he was. And it was coaching that he loved best of all. He saw a landau on the streets of Geneva one day and wouldn’t rest til he had secured its builder for his own. The coachbuilder was Gustavus Grimwald, Elizabeth’s father.

  “Now, the Grimwalds had no children when they arrived in England and no one expected any, old couple that they were. When Elizabeth appeared there was something positively biblical about it, like Abraham and Sarah.

  “Oh, and little Elizabeth, she was a beautiful chil
d, with black curly hair and great green eyes. You might’ve thought a pair of old parents would dote on such a little ‘un, but Gustavus was fierce in his religion. I’m quite sure he saw love for Elizabeth as a kind of temptation to be resisted, lest she become the idol of his heart.”

  “God. That’s awful.”

  “Tis cold, isn’t it? But that’s how we were raised. Our eyes were ever directed away from the things of this earth. Don’t mistake me, Elizabeth was always perfectly well cared for, but never petted, and certainly never shown off.”

  “No wonder she’s such a dragon,” Miles said.

  “Oh, you’re being harder on her than you should be, I think, but let me tell it, won’t you?”

  “Sorry.”

  “All four of us went to school together. And we got along quite well. Elizabeth was a very clever girl – always at the head of every class. For years we saw one another each school day. It was a jolly time, though it ended when I was thirteen. A job was offered me and it was too good a chance for my mother to pass up, so that broke up our little group.”

  “Thirteen? Was that legal?”

  “Oh yes. The minimum school leaving age was eleven in those days. I was thought something of a waster for going on to thirteen. The better-off families aimed to keep the children in school to fourteen, though the poorer families paid little attention even to the minimum age. If there were a chance for a child of nine or ten to make some money he was pulled from school, whatever the attendance officer might say.

  “Anyway, a year or so after we left school, Taffy and Maryanne began keeping company. They were very young, but they both had good heads on their shoulders and I knew they were serious about one another.”

  Dorcas was beginning to massage her temples as she spoke.